#the outline glows in the dark!

[mathysphere]

Checkit out! An ornament for the mathematically-minded: a Koch Snowflake, fourth iteration. It's one of the most famous fractals, and a personal favorite aesthetically, too.

Fun fact: as the number of iterations goes up toward infinity, the perimeter of the snowflake does, too, but the area doesn't-- a snowflake with infinite iterations would have an infinite perimeter, but its area would be 160% of the area of the original starting triangle.

This one's up in Xstitch Magazine's Christmas issue now! Photo is by Stacy Grant, who works for the magazine, and you can get 20% off with the code 'Issue24Star' :)

[plutoons]

i wanna sleep under the stars

[godzexperiment]

me writing about nix and an few moments where he favors sign language over talking/writing just like !!!!

[mothmanatemysister]

Got bored, recolored some Pokemon Mini sprites to do as perler for my wall later. I usually do WonderSwan recolors, so this took way less time with how tiny they are lol.

Here's the original:

And here's my version. Wasn't sure what color to make the skateboard, so I just went with green and orange to make it stand out since Pichu is pretty pastel.

[ghosthouseart]

total solar eclipse

[image description: a watercolor painting of a solar eclipse shaped like a giant glowing eye in the sky. its eyelashes are formed by rays of light spearing out into the clouds. it sits in a dark purple sky, surrounded by thick purple clouds dotted with outlines of smaller eyes, over a yellow glow on the horizon, like a sunset. the lower edge of the painting is framed by silhouetted trees. /end i.d.]

[dcxdpdabbles]

DCxDP fanfic idea: Danny's Did you know?

Danny is a contact creator.

He started off as a kid who wanted to dump info about space or other interests, making it more "Did you Know" as his theme, but his channel really took off the first time he invited a ghost to speak about the era that came before.

No one knows Sidney Poindexter is a ghost. Ghosts usually do not appear on camera; if they do, they are always a blur or barely visible outline. That doesn't come into play when the camera happens to belong to the Ghost King, who is unaware of the title.

Due to this, the ghosts, as his guest stars, turn out to look like normal human beings. There is no glow, no see-through effect, and the only odd thing about them is how they dress.

Even Poindexter's coloring could be explained with some well-done make-up.

They think he's just someone wearing a costume and pretending to be from the 1950s, using information Danny had researched. Danny's interview with Poindexter became an instant hit among those who applauded the genuine authenticity of what the 1950s actually were like.

Not only that, but Poindexter's reactions to modern terms and objects that Danny presents are hilarious to the viewers, as he never once broke character. There is even an entire section where both grumble about the bullying issue in their shared high school.

A particular scene becomes a trending meme.

"Did you know Dr. Seuss coined the word "Nerd" in 1950? He used it in the book If I Ran the Zoo," Danny tells Poindexter.

The other teenager rolls his eyes. "Of course, I knew. It was published in my first year of High school. I was one of the first to be called nerd, you know? It would have been more impressive if it didn't take the entire football team four days to read."

"Four days!?"

"Dr. Seuss's writing style saved the American reading levels back in my day."

"So we have always been stupid, huh?"

Danny's next guest is Johnny 13, a biker from the early 1980s who spends most of his time flirting with Danny—who doesn't acknowledge the attempts—and proudly tells the viewers he may have been there, but he was too poor to know much about the 1980s.

"What were the trends in that era?" Danny asks Johnny after considering his notes.

The biker shrugs. "I think cellphones? They were too expensive for me or my block. Never saw one in real life before I died."

"Well, one trend was waterbeds. Did you know that waterbeds were invented in the 60s? They were made by a design student but weren't popular until the 80s, making them popular for the sudden rise of sex appeal." Danny says with a cheerful grin.

Johnny 13 tilts his head, considering his words. "Radical. I couldn't afford a mattress, much less a waterbed, but I bet they were fun. If you can get your hands on one, I would happily show you how fun they can be."

Danny rolls his eyes and then considers something. "If you couldn't afford a mattress, how did you get your bike then?"

"I stole it. Car theft was effortless back then after hotwiring took off." Johnny's smirk turns dark. "I stole to keep myself fed. Bad luck followed you everywhere when you started at America's rock bottom. Only crime could get you out, and even then, life was shit."

Danny reaches out and pats his shoulder. "At least you got to live through one of the best eras in our history."

"Nah, I died in 1983. I missed it, but do you know who actually got to live it? Ember. She died in 1990."

Next week, Ember strikes an alarming resemblance to the one-hit-wonder singer Ember McLain, who had nearly made it big a few years ago.

"What were the 80s like?"

"Terrible, everyone hated me in school, and AIDS was killing all my friends."

Danny pauses for a long moment, looking horror-struck, until Ember shrugs, "But Glam rock was made popular, which was kind of cool."

"Glam?"

Ember smirked at the host, holding her guitar. "Want to hear some?"

By the end of her performance, everyone was losing their mind that Danny Fenton somehow knew a big name like Ember Mclain, and her music once again started to trend. So much so she released another song called "Lost," dedicated to all her fallen friends who died in the AIDS epidemic.

It goes on and on, with each new video showcasing different times and people from those backgrounds. Tim Drake never misses an episode as a dedicated follower of Danny's Did You Know?

He also thought it was a gimmick to make the show entertaining and thought nothing of the hilarious conversations—not when the host was such adorable eye candy.

Things are normal until Tim watches Danny interview Greta Hayes, who died in the late 90s. His very dead, very much a ghost teammate who happily tells the story of her life while looking like an ordinary girl for the first time.

It's not even someone dressed up as her. She makes an apparent reference to some slang Bart uses, and a few of the team's inside jokes are sprinkled into the conversation.

Tim feels a headache coming on. After watching the episode, he grinned darkly as he picked up his phone and called Bruce.

"So we may have a problem. Either a necromancer with an insane amount of skill or something similar. We need to go to Amity Park to investigate Danny Fenton."

Bruce sighs. "Tim, I am not helping you stalk your internet crush-"

"It's not stalking. It's detective work!"

[g0dlyunsub]

not enough.

spencer couldn’t be there to help you during a case, and he thinks that he’s not deserving of your forgiveness.

pairing :: spencer x fem bau!reader

warnings :: mentions of fire, burns and injuries, hospitalization, reader gets injured, angst, descriptions of blades, hurt/comfort, fluff, medical inaccuracies

word count :: 1.8k

author’s note :: i have not written in a while but here's something that's been sitting in my drafts :3

accompanying song :: breathe by lauv

"kid, you need to go."

"no, i'm not leaving you. i'm not-" spencer coughs as the dust mingles with the air in his lungs. "-i'm not leaving her."

"reid, go!" derek shouts over the roaring flames.

you can hear their desperate exchange, but you can’t say anything. 

everytime you swallow, it feels like a razor blade's sliding down your throat; it makes jagged cuts in your parched throat. 

all of your tears have evaporated from the surface of your eyes due to the scorching heat, and it hurts to blink. 

you don’t even realize that your trousers are literally on fire until spencer’s patting at the flames with his bare hand, all the while trying to get the restraints off of you.

“i can’t- i can’t get them off!” spencer heaves, and you can hear the panic in his voice turning into hot anger.

“reid, just take the other guy and go!” 

derek’s shouting, but he’s barely audible next to the unrelenting fire.

"please, let me-"

you feel spencer tug with all his might, pushing and pulling against the ropes, but they’re too tight. the ropes aren’t made of special material, but the heat’s completely melted and fused the knot, making it near-impossible to rip apart.

you can barely keep your eyes open, but you can still see spencer frantically whipping his head back and forth, glancing at you and the last hostage in the room.

derek gives spencer a knowing look, one that you know all too well. 

reluctantly, spencer looks down. 

he can see the flames reflected in your eyes. 

he can see the pain seared into your skin.

a lump starts to form in his throat.

you’re mouthing the word go.

greasy tears well up in his eyes, and spencer splutters a cry. 

“sorry.”

he adds another sorry. and he adds another, until all he’s murmuring is an incoherent stream of apologies. 

you watch as he slings his arm around the hostage’s waist and drags his feet to the exit, and you watch until all you can see is the wavy outline of his figure, distorted by the heatwaves.

your eyes flicker between open and closed.

“y/n, stay with me. no, no, no,” derek shakes you while he continues to saw through your strings with a dull object, “don’t you give up on me now.”

the smoke’s rolled up to cover the ceiling, and an amber glow coats the entire room.

with the cacophony of the roaring flames, expletives spluttering from derek’s mouth, and the back and forth of the rounded blade, the sounds of your restraints loosening barely make it to your ears.

“come on!”

derek hastily tears the fraying restraints and pulls you away from the blazing rod that you’ve been tied to.

you take a desperate gasp for air at the sudden relief, but only choke on dust and the fierce heat. 

it’s too much — too much grime, grease, toxins coating your airways. you stop trying to breathe.

you hear derek groan as he takes your limp body in his arms and lifts you up, and the sudden change in position has you seeing stars.

as derek hauls you out, you see a brief flash of the sky. you could’ve sworn it was a shade of blue clearer than the ocean before you entered, but now it’s a beat down shade of jaundiced yellow.

huh.

it’s burning so darkly.

—

when spencer sees you come out of the burning building, tucked in the arms of derek morgan, he thinks he’s looking at a fallen angel.

dark smoke and dust pepper you head to toe, and your parted lips are making such a desperate effort to stay open.

you’re not breathing.

he breaks into a sprint. the calls from hotch and rossi fly behind him, as do their attempts to grasp him back. he runs to you, and not a single person can stop him.

he drops to his knees next to your unconscious body on the ground with derek, and his heart instantly falls. 

his brain starts to perform an instant diagnosis of your condition – he sees the burn marks scattered over your arms and legs, and he can almost feel your pain, like your nerves are connected to his.

the medics surrounding the scene yell out orders to stay back so that they can start chest compressions, but spencer won’t move.

he’s with you when you jerk back out of unconsciousness, when you’re still too weak to process all of the visual and auditory cues around you.

he’s with you when you’re lifted onto the back of the ambulance.

you can hear him raising his voice at the medics.

“we need to administer aerosolized unfractionated heparin with albuterol and check for hypovolemia, she needs oral and mivf immediately upon admission-”

you phase out once again.

—

when you open your eyes, you realize that you’re not in an ordinary hospital room.

you’re inside the intensive care unit.

generally, only family members are admitted as visitors in the icu, but the man laying his head over the side rails of your bed isn’t your family member.

spencer had to break some protocol to get here.

as you shift your bandaged arms over the blanket, spencer starts to stir slightly, until he realizes that it’s you moving beside him.

his eyes widen as he raises his head.

“how do i look?” you weakly mutter and force your lips into a smile.

his lips quiver, and he’s about to reach for your hand before he realizes that you probably can’t even handle his touch.

“so-” his voice cracks, “so beautiful. so incredibly beautiful.”

your heart does a flip at his words.

“you don’t have to lie.”

he looks away for a brief second, before shaking his head. “i’m not. i swear. you’re the most beautiful woman i’ve ever met — that i’ve ever seen.”

you let out a pained chuckle. “would you look at that, my skin’s blushing.” you turn your arm to the side slightly and loosen your bandages to reveal the pink cuts in your flesh. 

spencer’s brows knit together in a pained expression, and you cringe at your own joke.

you inhale slowly. “spill it, spence.”

“spill what?”

“you did that thing where you look away. it’s your giveaway.”

“no, i-”

you turn your head to look at him with a pleading face, and he succumbs instantly.

he pulls his hand. “i- uh…”

he looks at you once and you raise your brows, an encouraging sign to continue written all over your face.

“i don’t deserve you.”

you blink slowly.

“you deserve someone better,” he continues, looking down ashamedly.

you can't possibly be hearing him correctly. “someone better?”

“someone like morgan.”

“morgan?”

“yeah. derek morgan. he’s the one who stayed with you, who carried you out of that crumbling building. i couldn’t protect you. i failed the one thing i promised myself.” 

“spencer, i wasn’t the only one- you had to save the other guy stuck in there.”

“the worst part is-” spencer chokes, “even if i traded places with morgan, i don’t know if i would’ve gotten us out in time.”

your eyes start to water. “no, spence, don’t say that.”

“i’m not strong enough. i’m not strong like morgan, and i’m not strong enough to protect you. i let you down. i failed you.”

you shake your head. “no, spencer. no. you’ve never failed me, do you hear me? you never failed me and you never will fail me. because-”

you take a deep breath.

“you broke protocol for me, the entire time. i heard what you said to the medics in the ambulance. and you’re here. right now.”

this time, he shakes his head. “it’s the least i can do. it still doesn’t change the fact that i couldn’t take the bullet for you.”

“spencer-”

you lean forward, a strangled grunt leaving your lips, until you’re a mere inch away from spencer’s face.

“maybe,” you start, flickering your gaze left and right into his sunken eyes.

“maybe i want to take the bullet for you too. maybe i want to protect you too. maybe i want-” you smile, “-to fight to stay with you.”

he pulls back, and glassy traces of tears coats his entire face.

again, you smile. “because if you don’t deserve me, then i don’t deserve you either.”

and it’s your goddamn smile that absolves all of his worries in an instant, that makes spencer forget that you’re bundled up in layers of gauze and bandages, that makes him think you’re an angel with a golden halo that’s lighting up the entire room.

it’s only when you let out an disgruntled sigh that he realizes you’re not an angel in a dress but a patient in a hospital gown, and the guilt latches back onto him like an inseparable magnet.

spencer’s eyes soften with concern and gloss over your entire body. gently lifting the edges of the blanket, he brushes his fingers against yours.

“my arm – it’s itchy,” you explain, and close your eyes to restrain yourself from picking at your scabby skin.

“i’m sorry,” spencer returns, an empathetic expression sweeping his face. “the bandages have to stay on, unfortunately.”

“my face-” you start, and spencer’s now looking at you with an expression crossing between serious and disturbed.

“your face? does it itch? where?”

he leans over, and cups your chin in the palm of his hand. slowly, he moves your face to the left and right, until you meet his misty brown eyes in the middle.

“my mouth.”

“your mouth?”

“yeah,” you scrunch your lips in a pained expression, but smile. “i think a kiss would help.”

spencer raises his brows in surprise, and a coughy chuckle leaves the back of his throat.

he can’t fight the excitement bubbling in his heart when you say that, when you’re so adorably bold in front of him.

how could he ever deserve you?

“you asked for it,” he murmurs quietly, before leaning in and bringing his lips to yours. he caresses the side of your face as his soft lips give you a taste of his desperation, though it’s too short to quench your desire.

he pulls back and cocks his head to the side to stare at you with admiring eyes. “is that better?”

you return a contemplative look, pouting your lips slightly. “it’s still itchy.”

he shakes his head amusedly and places a hand on the cushioned mattress, before leaning in to make your heart flutter with another kiss. it’s deeper than before, but he still draws himself back to not deprive you of your air.

once again, he pulls back and graces your eyes with a shy smile. “how about now?”

you tut disapprovingly. “nope.”

a wide smile curves the corners of spencer’s mouth, and he reaches to hold your hand affectionately in his. 

your feverish cheeks light up with a hot glow when your lips intertwine with his in a slow rhythm, when spencer slowly moves his hand behind your head to tousle your strands of hair flowing through his fingers.

he doesn’t ask any more questions.

[heejake-hoon]

Enhypen hyung line and cockwarming (mdni)

A.N: this ended up longer than i intended sorry TT. Also i don't like the way this turned out but anyways, enjoy 🧡🧡 also this is not proofread.

Heeseung:

You kneel on the plush carpet between Heeseung's spread thighs, breath already coming in shallow pants in anticipation. His big screen is illuminating his handsome features in a soft blue glow as he fiddles with his controller, getting set up for an intense gaming session.

With a subtle raise of his hips, Heeseung silently signals you to take your position - the only warmth and comfort he'll need during his digital battles. Eagerly leaning in, you mouth along the impressive bulge tenting his thin shorts, nuzzling against the thick, heated outline of his half-hard cock through the soft fabric.

"There's my good little cockwarmer," he rumbles in approval, large hand instinctively drifting down to caress the back of your head as you lap hot kitten licks up his rapidly stiffening shaft. The heavy, intoxicating scent of Heeseung's virile musk surrounds you in a thick, arousing fog.

With deft motions, you slip his shorts out of the way just enough to free his growing erection, the thick, veiny length springing out to slap heavily against his chiseled abdomen. An involuntary mewl of desperation escapes as you drink in the magnificent sight - plush lips parting in greedy anticipation.

"Easy there, pet," Heeseung chuckles, amused arousal glinting in his dark gaze as he hooks a thumb into the corner of your willing mouth to pull it wider. "You're doing such a good job slobbering all over my cock already."

Whining around the thick digit stretching your lips open, you lean in to engulf the swollen, spongy head between your slickened lips as Heeseung's attention has already returned to the game. His cock throbs heavily on your greedy tongue, the rich flavor of his pre-cum already beading on the tapered tip.

You slurp it up hungrily as your head begins to bob in a well-practiced rhythm, contentedly working your hand in concert with your mouth to slather every impressive inch in saliva. This is one of your favorite duties - to take good care of Heeseung's magnificent cock while stoking his arousal on low-simmer as he focuses on other matters.

Once he's sheathed to the hilt in the tight, wet heat of your willing throat, you simply hold there and let his impressive girth rest heavily on your dexterous tongue. Your senses narrow to the steady pulse of his fat cock in your mouth, the rise and fall of his clenched abdominals as he breathes through a particularly intense gaming sequence.

When his character pulls off a flawless, multi-kill combo, Heeseung growls out a gruff "Fuck yeah!" and impulsively ruts his hips upward to stuff the rigid column down your convulsing throat. You gag harshly, drool sputtering around the seal of your lips as you forcibly repress your gag reflex.

"Good girl," he pants raggedly, eyes still locked on the bright screen even as he starts to brutally face-fuck you - thick, slurping thrusts of cock pumping against the back of your mouth. "Get nice and ready for my fat load while I kick some ass..."

The intensity of Heeseung's thrusts steadily builds as he gets more and more worked up over his game, each successful kill or close shave fueling the savage jolts of his hips. Your eyes are rolling back helplessly, saliva pooling around his pistoning shaft to drool obscenely down your chin. All you can do is cling to his powerful thighs and desperately breathe through your nose whenever he pulls back enough to allow a sliver of air.

"Fuck yes, taking my cock like a perfect little cumdump," he growls without looking down, the wet squelches of rigid meat slamming against your gasping lips adding to the cacophony. Every nerve is set alight from the brutal overstimulation, your own slick drenching your thighs with each punishing face-fuck.

When a massive combo culminates in victory, Heeseung roars out his excitement and tightens his grip on your scalp, utterly taking control. He hammers into your mouth with wild, punishing abandon, the heavy impact of his full sac pounding your chin making your eyes water.

"Open up wide and get ready, whore," he snarls, right on the cusp of climax. "I'm gonna make sure you're overflowing with my thick seed all the way down your sloppy gullet..."

With a hoarse shout, Heeseung's hips seize as he holds you impaled fully on his cock. You feel the first hot, syrupy blast of cum erupting directly into your abused throat - thick, potent ropes continuing to pulse out in an endless, stifling deluge. He doesn't pull out until his softening cock stops twitching, leaving your entire mouth, throat and chin caked with his pearly spend.

Jay:

You settled obediently between Jay's muscular thighs under his desk, already feeling a rush of arousal as his musky male scent surrounded you. His thick cock hung heavily from the open vee of his suit pants, the flushed head glistening with a bead of precum.

Licking your lips, you leaned in and dragged the flat of your tongue along the underside of his shaft in one long, torturous lick from root to tip. Jay sucked in a sharp breath, his fingers stilling on the keyboard briefly. Encouraged, you swirled your tongue around the swollen crown, teasing the slit until more of the salty fluid leaked out.

"Fuck..." Jay breathed out a groan as you lathed the engorged head with kitten licks. "Been thinking about this sweet mouth all day, baby."

You hummed in delight and finally parted your lips, taking the bulbous tip into your wet heat. Inch by delicious inch, you sank down on his throbbing length until the coarse hair at the base tickled your nose and his impressive girth stretched your lips obscenely wide.

Keeping your movements tantalizingly slow, you massaged the underside with the strong muscles of your tongue as you pulled back up to suckle at the sensitive crown. Jay cursed again, one large hand dropping to fist in your hair as you set an agonizing rhythm.

"That's it, sweetheart... Gonna keep my cock nice and warmed up down that greedy little throat," he growled, the gravelly timbre of his voice sending a shiver of need through you.

You whimpered around his thick shaft, your core clenching needily. Drool quickly escaped the corners of your stretched lips, but you were too far gone to care about being messy. All that mattered was pleasuring your lover and feeling his heavy cock sliding between your lips.

Jay's grip tightened in your hair as his hips began rolling slowly in time with your bobs, his tip nudging the back of your throat with each shallow thrust. Determined to take him deeper, you focused on relaxing your mind and muscles, allowing him to ease further into your convulsing channel.

"Oh fuck... Gonna lose my mind feeling you swallow around me like that," he groaned, his free hand still typing intermittently.

Salty precum flooded your senses as his cock throbbed and jumped on your tongue. You moaned around the girthy stretch, the vibrations making Jay shudder and bottom out in your spasming throat.

Emboldened, you fondled and massaged his heavy sac, reveling in his ragged curses and the tight grip in your hair. His movements grew more erratic, his breathing harsh,

until finally Jay pushed his chair back from the desk. You pulled off his spit-slicked cock with a messy slurp, looking up at him with lust-blown eyes and swollen lips.

"Up here. Now," he growled, voice rough with need as his intense gaze roamed over your disheveled state.

You scrambled eagerly into his lap, grinding your dripping core against the rigid length trapped between your bodies. Jay captured your lips in a searing kiss, his clever tongue plundering your mouth as he yanked impatiently at your clothes.

Soon you were naked from the waist down, skirt shoved up around your waist as Jay's thick cockhead nudged insistently at your sodden entrance. You whimpered into the filthy kiss, shamelessly chasing friction by circling your hips.

"You want this big cock filling you up?" Jay rasped against your lips, calloused fingers sinking into the soft flesh of your ass to grind the weeping tip through your slick folds.

"Please, please..." you babbled shamelessly, rolling your hips to take him deeper with each teasing pass.

Chuckling darkly at your wanton Display, Jay shifted his grip and hauled you down in one smooth thrust, impaling you completely on his impressive length. You threw your head back with a broken cry, feeling so deliciously full and stretched around his thick shaft.

He gave you no time to adjust before setting a punishing pace, his rigid cock sawing in and out of your fluttering, cream-soaked channel. The lewd noises of skin slapping against skin and your high-pitched mewls of pleasure filled the room as he used you for his gratification.

Overwhelming sensations blazed along every nerve. Your nails scored desperate lines down Jay's back, his harsh grunts and the drag of his cock against your over-sensitized inner walls driving you swiftly toward delirium.

"That's it, sweetheart, gonna fill up this greedy little cunt," Jay snarled, his hips pistoning with relentless force. "Take my load like a good girl."

Jake:

Jake let out a frustrated groan as he stared down at the textbook open in front of him on the desk. He'd been trying to focus on his college homework for what felt like hours, but his mind kept wandering. Until you crawled into his lap and slowly impaled yourself on his thick length.

"Fuck..." he hissed out between clenched teeth as your scorching heat enveloped him in one agonizing descent. "Supposed to help me concentrate, not drive me crazy, babygirl."

You shuddered at the harsh rasp of his voice against your ear, already feeling his heavy cock start to swell and harden further within your fluttering walls. Per your agreement, you stilled completely, your slick internal muscles gently massaging his throbbing length.

Jake tried valiantly to turn his attention back to the books and papers strewn in front of him, but the obscene stretch and smoldering heat gripping his dick made it impossible to focus. He hadn't realized just how deliciously torturous this idea would be.

His cock twitched forcefully inside you as rivulets of arousal trickled down your trembling thighs, soaking the material of his sweats where your pelvis met his. He bit out a muffled curse, fists clenching on the desktop.

"So fucking tight..." Jake ground out, hips flexing with the slightest abortive thrust before he caught himself, teeth gritted.

You couldn't bite back the whimper at the electrifying burst of sensation, already feeling drunk on the heavy stretch and throbbing heat spearing you open. Your pussy clenched greedily around his solid invasion, fluttering and muscles rippling in a desperate milking motion.

Jake dropped his head against the back of the chair with a broken groan, muscles tense and cords of tendons straining in his neck as he fought to remain still. Every flex and convulsive grip of your inner walls had his toes curling, so close to losing control.

One large hand dropped between your parted thighs to stroke through the copious arousal coating your folds and trailing down his taint in lewd rivulets. He gathered the musky essence, coating his fingers before bringing them to swirl around your swollen clit.

The electric jolt caused you to clench harshly around his throbbing cock, frantic choked whimpers spilling from your lips. That only encouraged Jake, fingertips working tight, frenzied circles against the throbbing bundle of nerves.

You were reduced to a mewling wreck of sensation, body practically vibrating with pent-up need as Jake ruthlessly stroked you higher while locking himself in an iron rigid line of restraint behind you.

"Fuck, fuck, you feel so goddamn good," he growled against the sweaty curve of your neck, the words ragged torture. "Need to move so fucking bad..."

White-hot pleasure licked down your limbs, muscles growing taut as a bowstring as you barrelled toward the precipice. Jake captured your desperate cries on his tongue, one hand still stroking your clit as the other fisted in your hair to angle your mouth for a soul-scorching kiss.

The whiplash of ecstasy ricocheted between your joined bodies in an endless feedback loop of pure hedonistic bliss until the swirling vortex of rapture finally broke, crashing over you both in shattering waves.

Your pussy clamped down like a vise, convulsing and gushing around his iron length as Jake's restraint snapped utterly in your climax. A broken roar tore from his chest as he finally unleashed himself, jackknifing his hips to drive his cock in hard, pounding strokes through your fluttering, spasming core.

Jake painted your milking walls with his scorching seed, his cock throbbing and jerking with each thick pulse. Neither of you slowed or softened your delirious thrashing until his balls were drained and your honey was smeared in obscene streaks across the bulging cords of his flexing abdomen.

It felt like an eternity before you finally collapsed, boneless and quivering against Jake's heaving chest. The hoarse groan that escaped him was utterly satisfied as his softening length slipped free with a lush gush of combined release.

"No fucking way I can focus on homework after that," he rasped, voice gravelly with spent lust.

Sunghoon:

The thick bulge in Sunghoon's pants was already straining against the material as he slid into the driver's seat of his car. With a heated look, he crooked his finger at you. "Get that sweet ass over here, baby."

You hurried to obey, eagerly climbing into his lap and nuzzling into the crook of his neck. Sunghoon's big hands were rough as they gripped your hips, yanking you firmly against the rigid line of his trapped cock.

"Need to be inside this greedy little hole..." he growled, biting sharply at the juncture of your neck and shoulder.

You whimpered at the delicious sting, grinding shamelessly against the promise of his thick length as he hurriedly unfastened both your pants. With your leggings pushed down to your thighs, Sunghoon's cock sprang free - flushed, veiny and leaking at the tip.

Licking your lips, you reached between your bodies to grasp the velvety steel of his shaft. Sunghoon hissed as you smeared the pearling bead of precum from his slit and used it to slick the way.

You both moaned in unison as you slowly sank down on his rigid heat, his thickness stretching you so deliciously wide. Once fully sheathed, his cock pulsed and throbbed deep inside your clenching channel.

"Fuck, you're so goddamn tight," Sunghoon bit out, flexing his hips to work his cock deeper.

Crying out at the intense stimulation, you clenched around the thick, sensitive head as he started the car. The heavy throb of the engine only enhanced the shockwaves of pleasure sparking through your core with every lurch of the vehicle.

Bracing his hands on your waist, Sunghoon effortlessly held you impaled as he navigated the streets. He grunted every time you clenched around him, fingers digging into your hips hard enough to leave marks.

The obscene stretch and slide of his cock in your aching pussy made your thighs tremble. You couldn't help but squirm and rock in his lap, desperately chasing more delicious friction while he drove.

"Keep that greedy cunt still," Sunghoon growled in warning, one hand leaving your hip to lash across your ass. The sharp smack of flesh on flesh made you jolt and whimper. "Or you're gonna get this dick jackhammering into you at every red light."

Despite his threat, his chest was heaving with ragged breaths, giving away how turned on he was at feeling you clench convulsively around his embedded length. Still, you forced yourself to stillness, mewling pitifully as torturous tingles sparked along your over-sensitized nerves.

Finally, Sunghoon slammed on the brakes at a red light, the rough jolt making you cry out in blissful torment. His grip on your hips wasbruising as he hauled you up until just the thick tip remained stretching your entrance.

Time seemed to still as you whined and thrashed, hole clenching greedily around his crown, desperate for more of his thick cock splitting you open. You stared into Sunghoon's lust-darkened eyes, feeling delirious and wanton.

"You want it?" he rasped, the single worded question somehow filthier than any elaborate dirty talk. You could only nod frantically.

Then he slammed you back down, burying his entire punishing length in one brutal stroke as you screamed in euphoria. Any sense of rhythm or restraint shattered in the wake of his pounding thrusts and hoarse grunts of exertion.

His cock plunged wildly in and out of your spasming, cream-slicked channel, using your body shamelessly for his own release. The lewd sounds of harsh skin slapping mixed with strangled moans and muffled curses filled the car.

Every intrusion of his thick cock battered against your over-stimulated inner walls, dragging agonizing shrieks of pleasure from your raw throat. You lost yourself to delirium, body seized and convulsing without control.

Sunghoon didn't let up, relentlessly hammering his rigid length through your shuddering inner-vice. With a guttural roar, his pace turned frantic and hips stuttered erratically. Scorching ropes of his release flooded and stretched your pummeled hole, his cock jerking with each obscene pulse.

The burning heat of his seed seemed to sear along your sensitized nerves, triggering your own devastating climax. Every muscle locked as you shattered apart with a wail, cunt spasming wildly to milk every last drop from Sunghoon's cock.

Eyes glassy with residual bliss, you can barely move when he effortlessly hauls you up until just the swollen tip of his cock is caught in your fluttering entrance. But then the light turns red once more.

Sunghoon doesn't say a word, just brutally sheathes his entire length inside you again with one punishing thrust. The scream rips from your raw throat unbidden as he pulls almost all the way out and slams home again.

And again. And again - brutal and relentless.

You flail and claw at his shoulders, deliriously overstimulated, but he just pins your wrists against the steering wheel with one iron grip. His free hand at your hip is merciless, controlling the angle and force as he pile-drives his cock into your helplessly convulsing cunt.

The slick sounds of his pistoning thrusts are obscenely loud with each rapid stroke through your mess of mingled juices. The entire car shakes and rocks from the force of his assault as he ruins your battered hole on his thick cock.

Tears stream from your eyes from the overwhelming stimulation. Your voice gives out into hoarse whimpers punctuated by the lewd squelching between your bodies.

You can do nothing but take the ruthless reaming, gasping like a landed fish each time his hips slam home and jackhammer his dick fully into your spasming depths. Each inward stroke seems to punch deeper - stretching, battering, ruining.

Just when you're certain you can't handle another second of his savage possession, just when wavering darkness invades the corners of your vision...

The light turns green.

Sunghoon instantly drags you fully down onto his cock again, grinding deep as you sob around the thick pulse and throb of his length locked inside you. He lets out a rumbling growl of satisfaction at your pitiful whimpers.

"Hold it in, sweetheart," he rasps into the sweaty curve of your neck. "Not a drop can spill from that pretty, ruined cunt."

You choke back a wail as he uses his grip on your wrists to make you grind in tiny circles on the base of his cock. The torturous movement has it dragging and shifting through your swollen, abused walls, smearing his seed deeper.

Every muscle shivers and clenches, desperately trying to obey his filthy command. You're his cockwarming fleshlight, forced immobile and impaled while he resumes driving.

At the first roll of the next red light, he rewards you by unleashing another round of brutal, short thrusts, wrenching hoarse cries from you over and over as his cock batters home. He repeats this vicious pattern, timing each ruthless, punishing series of thrusts to the red lights.

You soon lose all sense of time and space, reality reduced to nothing but the endless cycle of Sunghoon's cock ravaging through your ruined hole, only to have you brought back to torturous stillness on its thick depth.

You drool and sob helplessly, enduring the obscene torment as he uses your body without mercy. All the while, his cum slowly seeps from your gaping, convulsing entrance to dampen his pants and seat beneath you...

[rottiens]

How often do you think Neuvillette makes love to reader in his dragon form? And how do they prepare for it all?

⊹ tags . . 18+, neuvillette in his dragon form, monsterfucking, established relationship, female reader.

⊹ wc . . 1.4K

⊹ notes . . didn't expect to write so much for this lol but, as always, I really enjoy the ideas you put in my head and ily.

Neuvillette is very shy at first about his true nature. Very withdrawn and perhaps ashamed of his original form. He has spent so much time among humans, understanding them and being part of them, that being with you, he forgets that this non-human part is still kept inside him.

You know the Chief Justice of Fontaine and the way he presents himself to others, you know how respected he is, how loyal he is; you know your husband and you have no doubts about him. But you don't know the Dragon Hydro. So, it is understandable that he feels shy to show his true nature before you.

Your sweet words gradually encourage him to trust you and what you assure him. You promise him so many times that no matter what you see, nothing will make you turn away from him— you do this by kissing his hand, pampering his neck, adoring his body that eventually, Neuvillette decides it's time.

As expected, his dragon form is as majestic as you had imagined. The imposing Neuvillette appears before your eyes, a being of breathtaking beauty and mystical presence. His winged figure combines the grace of an eagle with the strength of a dragon. His plumage is a symphony of colors that oscillates between deep blue tones and brilliant azure hues, creating a visual effect that evokes the power and serenity of the ocean.

You witness the magnificence of his transformation, a sight that takes your breath away and fills you with awe. As you approach, his eyes, deep and full of centuries of wisdom, look at you with a mixture of vulnerability and trust. You are honored and amazed by the faith he has placed in you, knowing that now, more than ever, you must keep your promise to stand by his side, accepting and loving every part of him, human and non-human.

His wings, broad and ethereal, appear to be sculpted from liquid light, adorned with undulating patterns reminiscent of gentle ocean currents. Each feather is outlined with silvery sparkles, giving the impression that a piece of the starry sky has been caught in its wingspan.

Neuvillette's head is noble and distinguished, with piercing eyes that sparkle with ancient wisdom. His silver mane flows back like a cascade of liquid silver. His words echo throughout the room, and he lovingly rests his forehead on yours, speaking to you through your thoughts. All the energy that fills the room bristles your skin, electric sparks that make your fingers move with a life of their own towards his face. Neuvillette drops into your hands, gazing intently at you with narrowed eyes.

Watching him, you can't help but feel that you are in the presence of an entity that transcends the mundane, a living connection between heaven and earth, the ethereal and the tangible.

"You are so beautiful, Neuvillette," you confess quietly to him. He lets out a sort of purr that fills the cave where you are, his tail visibly vibrating a tender blue, tossing back and forth like the waves of the sea.

The passing years have made him more comfortable at your side in his majestic form. You snuggle next to his body as he curls up next to you, his purrs like whispers on the wind lulling you into a placid slumber. But it is not until mating season that he realizes that opening up more with you has been both a blessing and a danger.

In that period, his desire becomes uncontrollable and his dragon nature intensifies. Neuvillette struggles to maintain control, but your gentle words and the trust you have placed in him give him the security he needs to fully embrace his true nature.

The mating gifts he has brought to you —pearls that glow even in the dark, coral crystals, jewelry created from sapphire— were now accompanied by something else. Something he considers terrible and carnal. Grunting, touching more than usual in public, slightly more possessive grips. It's second nature for you to join together in bed, to merge your bodies as one, to sink into you and make love to you all night long until you're both exhausted. But this season, there's something about Neuvillette that has him all the time with his pants tight, his hands sweating under his leather gloves and his boot clacking against the floor, he needed to be back home soon.

. . . He breathes heavily as he holds you against him. Your forehead rests on his as he recites one of the ancient poems stored on scrolls. His mouth is open, salivating, his majestic body jerking with every touch of your delicate fingers on the scales of his face.

"What's wrong?" your tone is almost pained, as if you are hurt. With a frown. Neuvillette hates himself for making you worry.

His whole body shudders as soon as your fingers tangle in the mane that hides his sharp eyes.

"My body doesn't seem to listen to me. I'm sorry, I'm burning up."

Your countenance softens, a tender smile tugs at your lips and Neuvillette jerks away from you, but you are quick to act and reach out your hands, stopping him in his attempt to escape.

"It's okay," as always, you encourage him. "I love you. In this and all your forms, Neuvillette. You have nothing to hide from me."

You prompt him, urge him to follow and explore his desires. It hurts his chest to see you so beautiful for him, to see you covered by a thin transparent cloth that barely covers your nakedness; your erect nipples are visible in the moonlight streaming through the cave and he pauses to think how firm they would feel under his tongue, your thin cotton panties soaked by a sticky layer of your arousal that provokes him just and only to push them with his claw and watch you squirm beneath him. Neuvillette suffers from not being able to control himself. But seeing you ready for him makes his animalistic senses fill with adrenaline.

Soon, he leaves the comfort of your warmth to push his face against your small body. You are so fragile, and he watches you carefully. His nose sniffs you, his scales tickle you, and you laugh. But Neuvillette is so focused on what he wants that he pays no attention to anything but that smell.

He descends under your body, determined. His face pushes the fabric up while he stands on all four paws so as not to crush you. His teeth tear at the fabric and you groan in surprise, for you have never seen him so desperate. Quickly, his long tongue darts out, cuts through the moonbeam and sinks between your thighs, exploring your slick folds with ferocity.

The dragon growls hungrily, devouring everything he can reach with his insatiable tongue. The split tip of his tongue does a dance on your clit, and you raise your hips in search of that pleasure, clinging to the silken sheets as waves of pleasure lash you. Neuvillette grunts, salivates and devours you as if for the first time. You melt with each lick until the impending end of your orgasm hits you.

Even after, he continues to lick you slowly, still greedy, still hungry.

Adoringly, his nose is wet from every trace of skin he gets, worshipping you like a deity.

After this, shame consumes him, so embarrassed to let this barbaric behavior that he has shown to no one else come to light, those instincts that make him lose his composure. Yet, with you by his side, promising him that everything is fine, that you are fine, Neuvillette allows it to happen a second time and then a third. How often? I think it happens spontaneously, but especially when he is in heat, he can't help but take you in his original form, in fact even if he won't admit it, in this state it is his favorite way to make love to you. Although he may lose control of his thrusts, he always tries to be gentle with you, always leaving a mark or two after the session.

These always start with him first in his human form, stretching you with his fingers, making you cum several times with them, then with his split tongue. Finally, when you're ready, one of his two cocks slides into you smoothly, so deep you don't remember how to breathe. Deep inside, he longs for the day when you can take both at the same time.

[nariism]

ೃ⁀➷ MY LOVE, MINE ALL MINE ★

a/n: fluff!! neuvillette being a touch starved loser (affectionate) + lots of terms of endearment. happy belated neuvillette day! may all neuvillette wanters be neuvillette havers ≧◡≦

Neuvillette can't stand coming home if not into your arms.

The deafening silence of a sleeping home drives him mad. It used to be welcomed after his terribly loud days. Now only serves to remind him of the millennium he spent alone, of the heartbreak he had to endure with no one to hold him, and of the growing emptiness within his heart long before he knew you.

It's unlike him to come home so late, but duty calls and as the Iudex of Fontaine he must go wherever summoned.

For days he has come home well into the latest hours of the night, sliding off his shoes in the darkness of the hall and allowing the silence to swallow him up whole. Five unbearably long days of missing your smile greeting him at the door, hands all over his face and squeezing his cheeks until he nudges them away in lieu of kissing you hello.

He expects tonight to be the same. It's so late that there was not a single soul wandering the streets of the city, no one awake to witness the very tired, very cranky Chief Justice.

You always find a way to defy his expectations.

The hall is quiet when he cracks open the front door. Crushing loneliness swells in his chest and sinks into the pit of his stomach when he realizes that you must have gone to bed long ago, as anyone sane would do. But then there's a click, followed by a small flame dancing in the dark.

You ignite an array of candles one by one, each additional glow illuminating your beautiful face in warm light. Neuvillette can't stop the hitching of his breath, nor the confusion knitted through his brows.

"What are you doing awake?"

You know he doesn't mean to scold you. Soft laughter fills his ears as you saunter over to him slowly. Realization crashes down on him as you approach, allowing him to see closer what has kept you up.

"Happy birthday, my love."

It's so late that midnight passed hours ago. He hadn't even realized amongst all the chaos of his work that the 17th had come and gone, making way for his birthday.

Only you would remember. It was a talent you had, memorizing every detail about him that sometimes even he lost track of.

("Neuvillette, dear, I picked up some dark roast on the way home today." He didn't even realize he had run out.

"Welcome home, I made ragout!" He wasn't aware he was craving it until you brought it up.

"Do you want this?" It's the last cookie in the bag, saved especially for him because you know it's from his favourite bakery in town.)

He leans in and blows out his candles, eyes never leaving yours as he blinks at you slowly. You look so beautiful even now, in the dimly moonlit hall. Darkness envelops your bodies again and yet he never tears his gaze away. Not even for a moment.

"Now put the cake down, please."

"Hm?" Your head tilts, clearly confused by his request.

"So I can hold you," he quickly explains, fingers itching at his sides because of how much he aches to hug you.

You gently set the cake down on the entrance table before you get scooped into a warm embrace, pressed snuggly to his chest as he memorizes the outline of your body against his once more.

"I've missed you, my dear," he says, face burrowed into the crook of your neck.

"It's only been a couple days," you laugh, and then remind him: "I see you every day at lunch."

"No, this is different." He pulls away slightly, forehead pressed against yours as he looks into your eyes. There's something in there— vulnerability and love all mixed into a beautiful purple harmony. "I miss coming home into your arms after long days," he admits.

"Oh, love," you breathe, reaching up to cup his face the way he's so used to. "Things will settle down again soon."

His eyes close as he savours your presence, soaking up all the affection you're giving him in his moment of weakness. You've always spoiled him.

"I suppose so," he agrees, a smile finally settling on his lips. Your thumb runs along it, tracing the curve of his happiness. There's a beat of silence before you open your mouth again.

"What did you wish for?" You ask curiously, voice growing quieter as you lean in to kiss him. And the answer he gives comes naturally.

Neuvillette has always wished for things he read about in novels; imaginary promises of treasure and desire and fame, sealed with the wispy smoke of blown out birthday candles. He isn't even sure if he has ever actually wanted any of those. But as he looks at you, with the slow beating of his heart and the brushing of your lips against him, he can't think of a single thing he could want more than this.

"I did not wish for anything," he tells you honestly, giving your waist a squeeze. "I already have everything I could ever want."

© ALABOADOA 2023 — please do not translate or post my works to other platforms.

[nightingale-prompts]

Space Fae- DCxDP prompt

So ending up in another dimension wasn't necessarily part of the plan. The plan was to stop the portal from being opened and letting countless demons flooding the mortal realm.

Constantine had said portals were finicky and interrupting the summoning can throw off the destination that the portals go to. But not the hell sounded pretty good.

So Tim might have "accidentally" ended up on the other side of said portal after attempting to see what was in it. He didn't actually think he'd fall in.

On the other side, he ended up in what he thought was a lounge. It looked like one or maybe it was a living room.

Regardless 4 tall luminescent figures looked at him from their reclined positions.

Their bare starry skin was bearly covered by translucent shawls. Their bodies were dappled with constellations against their colarshifting skin, it was like looking at space itself but cut out and melded to humanoid forms. It was clear they felt no need to cover themselves when they were so radiant as is.

The figure in the center of the room who was reclined on a fainting couch laid her eyes on him. Her eyes were a glittering blue surrounded by amber lashes. Her long hair was a metallic copper that moved like molten metal. She was the tallest as she stood up reaching 10 feet. You'd think she was a goddess at first glance. Her shroud covered her head to toes stopping short of the floor. She donned copper rings and necklaces around her with form.

The other 3 figures gazed at Tim with curiosity.

The tallest male had red patterns of stars on his skin like a dying cosmos against his dark skin. The main difference between him and the tallest female was her skin glittered with hues of purple stars against the black space. But he was mostly void. His eyes glowed like blazing red dwarfs determined to not go without a fiery blaze of glory. His ashen-tinted shroud was wrapped around his hips with a silver pin. His hair was a metallic silver. The only part of him that caught the light. He crossed his arms as he stared down at Tim at 9 feet tall.

The smallest girl stood only 7 feet tall. Her white hair flowed upwards in a ponytail that moved like a cloudy mist. Her skin was a bright cluster of colors like fireworks. Her skin was so bright the black spaces of her skin didn't exist yet because the space she embodied was so young and new. She mainly shined shades of blue and white of new stars Her green eyes were so bright they glowed a mint green. Here shroud was tied around her like a dress with a golden chain. She bounded towards Tim only to be stopped by the last of the figures who leaned down to meet Tim's gaze.

The last one was male...kind of. Male and female of these beings were judged only by their outlines so far and their way of wearing their translucent coverings. But this last one was neither but completely breathtaking. Their Lazarus green eyes framed by silver eyelashes like fresh powdery snow. Their long white locks reflected like the morning sun shining off untouched snow making holographic like rainbows ripple down the hair. His skin was a swirling mass of cloudy green stars. The center of their body made up the center of a rotating galaxy around a star. His shroud was tied in a toga that fell off one shoulder. He accessorized with jade bracelets and earrings that glowed eerily on his arms, legs, and neck.

The 8-foot-tall being placed a finger under Tim's chin and smiled kindly. He said something to the others and a language he didn't know. It sounded like humming.

There was something in that sound like it promised everything Tim had ever wanted could be found here. Limitless knowledge, love, and someone who understood him in every way.

Then Tim was thrusted back into his dimension with faint memories of his time there. Learning, flying, a warm embrace, and the faint taste of nectar on his lips. The memories faded to vague dreams when he crossed the threshold and only minutes had passed since he left.

[liz-on-leash]

Annoying Sister:

NMIXX Bae

Tags: male oc × bae, rape, incest, brother sister, creampie, blackmail,

Word count: 2.5k

Author's note: this is a commissioned one-shot from 2 months ago before I got reported for no reason and got my account deleted, lol. I already gave the document to the buyer so might as well post it here now.

Hanwol lounge lazily in his room, the soft glow of his laptop screen illuminating his features as he absently stroked his oily, throbbing cock. He'd been edging for what felt like ages, desperate for release but determined to prolong the delicious sensations.

Just as he felt the familiar tingle of impending orgasm, the door burst open and his sister Bae barged in. "YAH, Oppa! What the hell are you doing?" she screeched, her eyes going wide at the sight of his exposed, glistening shaft.

Hanwol quickly tried to cover himself, faltering, "Bae-ya! Don't you know how to knock?" He glared at her, his hips twitching with halted pleasure.

Bae put her hands on her hips, her small breasts straining against her tank top. "Mom called and said to take out the trash and do the dishes. You better go do it now or I'm telling her about this!" she threatened, her tone laced with disgust.

"Aish, just give me a minute, will you?" Hanwol groaned, resuming his rhythmic strokes. "I'm... a little busy here."

"Busy? Busy doing that?" Bae cried, smacking his arm. "You're so gross, Oppa! Now hurry up before Mom gets home!"

Hanwol winced at the sting of her hit. "Yah, stop hitting me and just leave me alone!" he snapped. "I'll do it when I'm done, okay?"

But Bae refused to budge, crossing her arms angrily under her chest. "No way! You better go do it right now or I'll tell Mom everything!"

Hanwol's stomach twisted with dread at the thought of his conservative, religious mother finding out about his scandalous activities. If she knew he was watching hardcore porn and indulging in such depraved acts, he'd be in for the scolding of a lifetime.

But the throbbing need between his legs was impossible to ignore. He was so close, just teetering on the edge of release. There was no way he could stop now, even with Bae's constant nagging.

As his sister continued to berate him, Hanwol found his gaze drawn to the way her crop top clung to her flat stomach and her low-slung pants accentuated the gentle flare of her hips. An unwelcome warmth pooled in his gut, and before he could stop himself, he surged forward, grabbing a handful of Bae's soft, blonde hair.

"Ow! Oppa, what the hell?" she cried, eyes wide with alarm.

"I told you to leave me alone," Hanwol shoved her roughly onto the bed. He pressed his muscular frame against her petite body, trapping her beneath him. "Now you're going to shut up and let me finish."

Bae's eyes went wide with terror as Hanwol pinned her down. "Oppa, you're crazy! Let me go!" she screamed, pounding her fists against his solid chest.

"Shut up, Bae Jinsol," Hanwol’s grip tightened on her hair as he slapped her hard across the face, dazing her momentarily.

Taking advantage of her distraction, he quickly unfastened her cargo pants, yanking them down her long, slender legs and leaving her in just a pair of tight, hipster panties. Bae thrashed and kicked, but Hanwol easily forced his way between her legs, pinning her arms above her head.

Hanwol's hungry gaze raked over the outline of Bae's pussy, straining against the thin fabric. "Nice sweet pussy you've got there, little sister," he chuckled, relishing the way she trembled under him.

"Please, Oppa, I'm sorry!" Bae sobbed, tears streaming down her flushed cheeks. "I was just joking! I won't tell Mom, I swear! Just, ugh, let me go!"

"Fuck no," Hanwol growled, his eyes dark with lust as he gazed down at his sister's trembling form. Now that he had her half-naked like this, she looked so fucking hot - he couldn't resist.

He groped Bae's small yet soft breast, eliciting a muffled whimper from the girl. Burying his face in the crook of his sister’s neck, Hanwol inhaled her sweet, familiar scent, his cock twitching needily against the crotch of her panties.

"Please, Oppa, please don't," Bae begged again, the word tumbling from her lips in a desperate, broken mantra. His hand drifted lower, rubbing and pressing against the soft skin of her stomach.

"Maybe this will teach you to stop being so goddamn annoying," Hanwol stated, a cruel smile spreading across his lips. "I'm gonna rearrange those guts of yours real good."

Bae's eyes went wide with terror. "Please, don't rape me, Oppa! I don't want this!" she cried, but her pleas only fueled Hanwol's sick desire.

Hooking his fingers beneath the waistband of her panties, Hanwol yanked her head forward by her hair, forcing her to look at his veiny, glistening cock. "Oh, this cock is gonna stretch that pretty pussy of yours so good, little sister.”

Hanwol's grip on Bae's panties tightened as he ruthlessly tore the flimsy fabric in half, exposing her bald, reddened pussy.

"No, please, Oppa! Don't do this!" Bae appealed, struggling against his hold with all her might, but the overwhelming panic and fear had weakened her resistance.

"Shut the fuck up or I will beat you up until you're dead," Hanwol threatened, pulling out the torn panties off her crotch and using them to bind her wrists, pressing them against her chest.

"Fuck you, you sick bastard!" Bae screamed, cursing him as she desperately called out for their mother, who had yet to return home.

Snatching the bottle of lube from the edge of the bed, Hanwol poured the substance over his cock, her pussy, and some on her stomach. "Too bad, sis. Oppa's cock needs a nice tight hole to fuck.”

"No, fuck no! I don't want this, I'm your sister!" Bae wailed, her voice laced with utter despair. But Hanwol's lust-addled mind had long since discarded any semblance of familial love or morality. All he could think about was the wet heat of her cunt.

Tossing the lube bottle aside, Hanwol gripped his cock, lining the weeping tip up with Bae's warm, quivering entrance. "You should be grateful I'm being so gentle with you, sis," he mocked, rubbing his cockhead along her slit, searching for the perfect spot to breach her.

"Get the fuck away from me!" Bae screamed, kicking the bed frantically and straightening her legs in a futile attempt to keep him at bay. "I don't want to lose my virginity to you, you sick bastard!"

But Hanwol paid her desperate pleas no mind, too focused on the task at hand. Pushing one of her legs apart, he used his free hand to guide his thick, engorged cock toward her tight, clenching pussy. Despite the generous application of lube, his cockhead struggled to penetrate her.

"Fuck, why are you so tight?" Hanwol asked in frustration, bearing down with all his strength until finally, the swollen head of his cock forced its way past her delicate folds, stretching her pussy lips like rubber.

Bae let out a stifled cry of pain as Hanwol's thick, unyielding cock forced its way deeper into her tight, virginal pussy. “God— it hurts! Your cock is too big, it's tearing me apart, Oppa! Pull it out!" her words punctuated by the sounds of his flesh sinking into her burning, clenching heat.

Hanwol's grip on her hips and thigh was bruising, his knuckles going white with the force of his grip. Inch by agonizing inch, Bae's tender pussy molded itself to the shape of his shaft until it was buried halfway within her quivering depths.

"Stop, please! It's too much, I-I can feel it in my stomach! Ahh!” her words were barely coherent through the tears streaming down her cheeks. True enough, the outline of Hanwol's cock was visible, distending the flesh of her lower abdomen.

Hanwol held himself still, reveling in the velvety warmth and tight, pulsing clutch of her inner walls. Bae's cries filled the air, the knowledge that he was the cause of her agony only fanning the flames of his forbidden craving.

Leaning in close to her face, Hanwol's hot breath ghosted over her sweaty skin. "Oh, but we're just getting started, sis. Didn't I tell you that I was going to rearrange those guts of yours?”

When Hanwol pulled back, leaving only the swollen tip buried within Bae's squelching pussy, a thin smear of blood coated his cock. Bae, too consumed by the burning stretch and friction, didn't notice the telltale sign of her virginity being taken.

"Alright, Jinsol-ah, time to get to the real fucking," Hanwol declared, using his sister's birth name. "So you better brace yourself."

He then thrust forward, sinking his thick cock into her tight heat in one move. Bae's eyes flew wide, a sharp gasp escaping from her throat as she arched her back, her legs stiffening. A prominent bulge tumefied in her belly, a testament to the full depth of his intrusion.

Bae saw stars, the world dissolving into a haze of agony and disbelief as Hanwol began rolling his hips, fucking her. Each deep, grinding stroke battered her tender cervix, eliciting gut-wrenching groans of pain.

"Fuck, Jinsol-ah, you feel so good," Hanwol’s voice laced with savage triumph. "So tight, just like I knew you'd be."

Bae's agonized cries morphed into keening moans as Hanwol's cock ruthlessly plundered her pussy. Every punishing deep thrust sent shockwaves of pain through her trembling body, and her insides stretched to their limits.

"Nngh, oh god, it hurts!" Bae wailed, her voice cracking. "It's too much, Oppa, please stop!"

But Hanwol showed no mercy, his hips snapping forward with bruising force. The obscene sounds of their joined flesh echoed through the room, punctuated by Bae's desperate beggings.

"Aaah, fuck!" she cried, her back arching as Hanwol bottomed out, his cock poking against her cervix. "It's so deep, I can't– I can't take it!"

Tears streamed down her flushed cheeks, her body shaking with the raw, searing torture. Yet Hanwol's relentless pace never faltered, his jabs growing erratic as the familiar tightening in his gut signaled his impending release.

"Mmh, yesss," he groaned, his fingers digging bruises into Bae's hips. "You feel so goddamn good, Bae-ya. I'm gonna fill you up until you're dripping with my cum."

Bae's legs straightened up in the air, tensing and trembling as Hanwol's brutal thrusts stole the breath from her lungs. "No, no, no," she cried, her toes curling in distress. Nausea roiled in her stomach, the world spinning around her as she was assaulted by wave after wave of searing pain.

"Please, Oppa, I can't take it anymore!" Bae wailed, her body shaking uncontrollably. "It feels like I'm going to be sick, make it stop!"

Hanwol, having edged himself for so long, was quickly nearing the edge of his own release. All he cared about was finding his release, the knowledge that he was about to creampie his own sister only spurred him on faster.

"Nngh, fuck, Jinsol-ah, I'm gonna cum!" he growled, his hips pistoning erratically as he chased his orgasm. "I'm gonna fill your pussy up with my seed, make you carry my baby..."

Bae let out a broken, anguished wail, her body trembling uncontrollably as Hanwol's words registered. "No, please, you can't! I don't want your baby, Oppa, please don't do this!" she begged, squeezing her eyes shut in a futile attempt to escape the nightmare.

Hanwol slammed home one final time and groaned in pure bliss as he flooded Bae's spasming pussy with his hot release. Rope after rope of thick, sticky cum painted her walls, seeping out around his twitching shaft as he ground his hips against hers, milking every last drop.

"Fuck, Jinsol-ah, you made Oppa cum so hard," he panted, his voice laced with a dark satisfaction. "Your pussy feels so goddamn good, little sister." With a contented sigh, Hanwol pulled out, leaving Bae's reddened pussy gaping and dripping with his seed.

The poor girl lay there, face turned to the side, eyes squeezed shut as she sobbed brokenly. The agony radiating from her battered body was matched only by the shattered look on her face, knowing the horrific future that likely awaited her.

Hanwol adjusted his pants, smoothing a hand over the front. "Well, now that I've had my fun, guess I should go take out the trash and do the dishes like a good boy," he sneered.

Bae weakly pushed herself up, glaring at him through her tears. "You're a monster," she spat, her voice raw with anguish. "I'm going to report you, make sure everyone knows what kind of sick, twisted rapist you are.”

Hanwol's eyes narrowed dangerously as Bae spat her defiant words. "Report me, huh?" he growled, stalking over to his desk and snatching up his phone. "We'll see about that."

Bae's eyes went wide with horror as she realized his intent. "What the fuck are you doing?" she cried, her bound hands flying up to cover her face. "Haven't you hurt me enough?"

But Hanwol wasn't listening. He rushed forward, shoving Bae roughly onto her back before climbing on top of her, he wrenched her hands away from her face, slapping her hard across the cheek.

"Ahhh! Stop, please!" Bae screamed, her voice raw with pain and terror.

Hanwol continued to strike her, recording every wince and sob. "Smile for the camera, little sister," he taunted, before sliding down her body. He angled the phone toward her slick used pussy. “My cock really did a number on you, didn't it?" forcing one of her legs up for a better view. "This is going to make one hell of a souvenir."

"No, please, Oppa, stop!" Bae pleaded, her voice hoarse from her cries. "Don't do this! Don't record me!"

But Hanwol only laughed, the sound dripping with cruelty. "Relax, sis. Oppa's just making sure we have a nice memento of our special time together.”

Hanwol's cruel laughter sent chills down Bae's spine. "You know, Jinsol-ah, I think I'll share this video with everyone," his tone dripping with malice. "All the professors, all the students - even your precious best friend, Sullyoon. Wouldn't that be fun?"

Bae's breath caught in her throat, her eyes going wide with horror. "No! You can't do that! You… You will ruin my future!" she begged, struggling against her bonds.

"Then you better keep that mouth of yours sealed, alright?" Hanwol warned. Without warning, he brought his hand down in a sharp smack against Bae's pussy, eliciting a scream from the girl as she coiled in on herself, fresh tears streaming down her face.

Satisfied, Hanwol stood, pocketing his phone away. "Well, I better go get those chores done before Mom gets home," he muttered, already heading for the door. "Try not to cry all over the sheets.”

With that, he was gone, leaving Bae alone, trembling and violated, the weight of Hanwol's threats hanging heavy in the air. Her future had never looked more bleak.

[hoe4hotchner]

Lingerie | [A.H] - Kinktober 2024

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!Reader

CW: 18+, MDNI, Light smut, piv, lingerie

WC: 1.3k

Summary: You surprise Hotch after a long day by wearing a set of sexy lingerie.

A/N: This is a prompt from the the Lazy Ghouls’ Kinktober prompt list, I don't know how many I will write or how much I'll participate in kinktober, but here's the first installment.

The soft glow of candlelight flickered in the dimly lit room, casting warm shadows against the walls. You stood in front of the full-length mirror, adjusting the straps of the delicate lace lingerie you had chosen for tonight. The fabric hugged your curves in all the right places, and you felt a rush of confidence wash over you. You had wanted to surprise Aaron for a long time, and now, the anticipation of his reaction made your heart race as you waited for him to return home.

As you turned to the side, admiring the way the lace outlined your silhouette, the sound of the front door opening broke your concentration. You quickly checked your reflection one last time before stepping out of the bedroom, excitement bubbling inside you.

Aaron was hanging up his jacket when you emerged. He looked tired from a long day at the office, but the moment he caught sight of you, his demeanor shifted. His dark pupils widened, and a slow smile spread across his face, lighting up his features.

"Wow," he said, his voice low and filled with admiration. "You look stunning."

You felt heat rise to your cheeks as you approached him, swaying your hips playfully. "Just thought I’d surprise you," you teased, a smile playing on your lips. "Do you like it?"

"Like it? I love it," he replied, stepping closer. His gaze roamed over you for a moment before he reached out, his hands tracing the curve of your body, feeling the fabric beneath his finger. Appreciation was evident in every line of his face. "But I think it’s missing something."

You raised an eyebrow, feigning confusion. "What do you mean?"

With a gentle grip, he pulled you against him, his warm body pressing into yours. "It looks gorgeous on you, but I think it would look even better… on the floor."

Before you could respond, he tilted your chin up, capturing your lips in a deep kiss. You melted into him, the heat between you igniting as his hands slid down your sides. In a swift motion, he tugged at the straps of your bra, sending a shiver of anticipation through your body.

You broke the kiss, teasingly pulling away just enough to catch your breath. "Maybe I don’t want to take it off just yet," you whispered, your voice a sultry challenge.

Aaron’s eyes darkened, a predatory glint flashing across his features. "Oh, I think you do, you just don’t know it yet. But I can make it work."

With that, he lifted you effortlessly, you wrapped your legs around his torso as he cradled you against him as he made his way to the bedroom. Your heart raced, excitement coursing through your veins as he laid you down on the soft sheets. He stood over you for a moment, a smirk on his lips as he took in the sight before him.

"You have no idea how hard it was to concentrate today," he said, leaning down to brush his lips against your neck. "All I could think about was coming home to you."

His kisses trailed down your collarbone, igniting every nerve in your body as you squirmed beneath him. You arched your back, urging him to continue. “I missed you too,” you admitted breathlessly. “I wanted tonight to be special.”

Hotch paused, looking up at you with an intensity that made your breath hitch. "You don’t have to worry about that," he said, his voice a low rumble. "You’re always special to me."

With a gentle tug, he pulled the crotch aside, his eyes darkening as he gazed at your slick cunt presenting itself to him. The world outside faded away, as something deep and primal clouded his senses. He couldn't take it anymore as he felt the fabric over his cock tightening, fighting to free itself from its prison.

A low growl rumbled in his chest as he removed his clothes, the sound reverberating in the room. The air thick with the scent of desire, the scent of you. It was intoxicating.

As he leaned closer, his breath was warm against your sensitive skin, a shiver of excitement raced through you. You felt exposed - despite the lace still hugging your skin - every nerve ending alive and tingling with need. The fabric of the sheets beneath you contrasted sharply with the warmth of his body above, and you couldn't help but arch into him, craving that closeness as he finally sheathed his hard cock into you.

“So goddamn beautiful!” he murmured, his voice a husky whisper that sent another wave of heat pooling in your belly. You moan, unable to form words, the desperation and eagerness pooling in your chest as you looked up at him.

He shifted, the weight of him settling inside you, and the feeling of his body pressed against yours. Your breath hitched as he brushed against you, a spark running through your veins, igniting every sense and sending a shiver of pleasure down your spine.

As he moved, the friction between you felt electric, each thrust a delicious blend of intensity and tenderness. You could hear the soft sounds of your shared breaths, mingling with the rustle of sheets, punctuated by gentle gasps and murmurs of encouragement. Each sound echoed in the space, creating a rhythm that matched the cadence of your bodies moving together.

The atmosphere grew heavy with heat and need, every moment drawing you closer.

“Just like that,” you whispered, your voice barely breaking through the haze of pleasure, but he heard you, responding with a deeper thrust that made you gasp, pleasure coursing through your body in delicious waves.

With every movement, you felt each heartbeat echo in your ears, matching the rhythm of your bodies as you moved in perfect harmony.

The pressure built with an exquisite tension forming and tightening in your core until it felt like the very air around you shimmered with threatening anticipation.

You felt like you were floating, lost in the sensations he evoked as he worshipped you. You melted into him completely, surrendering to the moment, feeling cherished and adored.

As the waves of pleasure began to ebb out, you both slowed, savoring the afterglow that enveloped you like a warm embrace. With a final, deep thrust, you felt him shudder beneath you, the tension breaking into a cascade of blissful release. Your bodies intertwined, you both fell into a soft rhythm, allowing the warmth to linger between you.

Breathless and spent, he gently pulled away, leaving a trail of soft kisses along your collarbone. The cool air brushed against your skin, but you felt a wave of contentment wash over you. You turned to face him, a smile spreading across your lips as you nestled into the crook of his neck.

“That was… incredible,” he murmured, his voice still thick with emotion. He wrapped his arms tightly around you, pulling you closer as if trying to merge your bodies into one. The soft thump of his heartbeat against your ear was reassuring, a reminder that he was right there with you.

“Thank you,” he continued, his breath warm against your hair. There was a sincerity in his voice that made your heart swell. “You always know how to make me feel… alive.”

You chuckled softly, relishing the intimacy of the moment. “I just wanted to remind you how much I love you,” you replied, pressing a gentle kiss to his shoulder.

His fingers brushed through your hair. “You did more than that,” he whispered, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes reflecting a depth of emotion that made your heart flutter.

With a sigh, you nestled deeper into his embrace, enjoying the quiet comfort that enveloped you both. “Let’s stay like this for a while,” you murmured, closing your eyes as you savored the peaceful stillness between you.

“Agreed.”

[taegimood]

— call it what it is (c.sb) ♡

pairing: choi soobin x fem!reader genre: smut, fluff, best friends to ? lovers? rating: nsfw, mdni wc: 2.5k warnings: virgin!soobin, idol!soobin, softdom!reader?, oral (m receiving), unprotected sex, messy cumshot, cum eating, brief use of petnames (baby, handsome), brief masturbation (m), some finger sucking, lowkey body worship? (m receiving), soobin horse cock but what else is new

a/n - trying to find some other fucking soob pictures to match the middle one was just impossible so i gave up lmao i’ve been reminded of why i never add photo headers.. i got lucky finding yeonjun’s within 30 seconds for the last fic 🙂‍↕️

──────────────────────

the lighting in soobin’s room is dim, the glow of his gaming setup situated on the desk in the corner offering just enough low light to cast the room in an unfamiliar new atmosphere, one that you haven’t ever felt in the countless times that you’ve been here before.

maybe it’s the quiet lull of having the dorm completely to yourselves tonight, or the clock ticking into single digit territory on the hour hand; maybe it’s the sudden vulnerability of this moment and the ones that led up to it.

maybe it’s the manner of what you’re about to do together; or maybe it’s the glow in the near-darkness that silhouettes your best friend so sensually as he stands in front of you while you’re leant back on the edge of his bed — his handsome face nervous and outlined by soft shadows as your eyes trail down his neck to the contours of his collarbones, past his chest and quick-beating heart to the gentle curve of his abs that stiffen slightly from the attention, or perhaps from the hesitant ministrations of his hand further down.

maybe it’s all of the above.

when you had come over earlier that evening for one of your typical hangout sessions, seizing the fact that soobin had no schedule tomorrow, you think it’s pretty safe to say that neither of you imagined it ending up like this.

the two of you were post anime binge and bingsu feast flopped across his bed, talking about anything and everything when the topic shifted to relationships and your conversation took a very interesting turn.

as close as you and soobin are, he’d never mentioned much about his sex life, and now you knew why: he didn’t actually have one.

you honestly weren’t too surprised when he, while talking about the difficulty of dating with his crowded idol life, somehow accidentally let it slip in frustration that he was still a virgin; and as red-faced and stuttery as he became while then attempting damage control to salvage his dignity, you were quick to reassure him with understanding words and a nonchalant smile.

and, as it turned out.. with an offer.

if he’d prefer his first time to be with someone he could trust, someone who would take care of him…

you don’t know what came over you when you carefully presented the idea.

you’d be totally lying if you said you had never considered what it’d be like to be with soobin physically; he was strikingly gorgeous from head to toe, after all. his gentle demeanor and dimpled laugh never made it any easier for you, either, but whenever your mind dared tiptoeing the line into romantic territory, well, you were always very quick to reel it back in.

until.… now.

you suppose there’s no other way to explain it as fondness blooms in your chest when you look at him, his trembling hands having fumbled over the buttons of his shirt until you’d replaced them gently with your own and did it for him instead — butterflies in your tummy at the sound of his quiet, shaky breaths every time your fingers brushed his skin — his face so close to yours, swallowing hard when you smiled softly up at him in reassurance.

there’s no other way to explain the affection that washed over you as he melted into your lips when you asked if it was okay to kiss him; or his breathy moans as your lips then made a home across the soft expanse of his neck after guiding his hands to begin undressing you in turn.

there’s no other way to explain the way that your heart swelled when he shyly turned off the overhead light and allowed you to trace kisses down his body as you sat on the edge of his bed and worked his sweatpants down with careful hands.

each time you moved to take things to the next step you’d look up at him for confirmation; and each time you were met with yearning, a trusting anticipation in soobin’s brown eyes that made you want to give him everything you could and more.

even in the near-dark you could still make out the rosy hue that colored his cheeks when you moaned at the sight of his cock, thick and long and pretty and just plain big as it came up to slap against his tummy once freed, leaking tip now eye-level with you from where he stood in front of the bed.

sensing the tension in his body, you’d slipped off the rest of your clothes so that he wouldn’t feel so vulnerable;

leaning back on your hands to gaze at him, watching the way his widened eyes flitted across your naked figure, lingering several times on your tits — you noted this for later — and you couldn’t help the pace of your own heartbeat as your pussy throbbed from the sight of him.

“you’re beautiful, bin.”

your soft words had startled him out of his trance, his eyes even wider then as they flickered up to meet yours;

“so are you,” he breathed, a whisper, cheeks reddening further in the dim light, and you could see the desire pooled in his stare.

“binnie.. can you touch yourself for me?” you’d asked carefully, voice sweet like honey, and the premature twitch of his cock was enough to send wetness leaking down between your thighs.

so now, as you watch him hesitantly stroke himself, large hand almost making his large cock look normal-sized until you remember that everything about him is just big, your body betrays you as your legs squeeze together and you can feel the drool threatening the corners of your lips at the expectancy of having something to wrap them around.

he’s biting down hard on his plush bottom lip as his eyes travel over you again, and you can tell that he’s trying not to breathe too heavy as they stay glued on your tits until you slide forward to the very edge of the bed.

the movement of his hand falters as the sudden proximity of your face so close to his cock sends a fresh bead of pre-cum to his tip;

“you don’t have to be nervous,” you murmur gently, looking up at him with a comforting smile. “can i touch you?”

his breath catches as he hesitates only for a second before he’s quickly nodding his head with a shakily-whispered “yes.”

his eyes follow your every move as you slide your own much smaller hand over his bigger one to remove it from his length — you shiver at the size difference — and when you gently wrap your hand around the thick base of his cock and lean in to place a feather-light kiss against his lower abdomen, the soft sigh that leaves soobin’s lips is suddenly the prettiest sound that you’ve ever heard.

you stroke him slowly, soon figuring out the amount of pressure that he likes judging from the staggers in his breath when you apply it; you have nothing on your mind other than to make him feel good as your lips trail over his skin, placing soft kisses along his abs, suckling a pretty mark onto his hip bone as your thumb caresses the head of his cock.

he moans, embarrassed at first until you look up at him through your lashes in a way that tells him you’ve never found anyone more sexy than this; and after that he doesn’t try holding back as much from the pretty sounds escaping his throat.

and when you finally lick at his tip before your free hand comes up to cup his balls and your lips slowly sink down on his shaft, soobin’s head is tipping back into a deep groan as his hips twitch forwards, your throat constricting around him at the sudden added length and your pussy gushing a fresh wave of arousal between your legs from the lewdness of it all.

god, soobin, you’re so fucking hot.

you’d tell him as much if your mouth weren’t stuffed full of his cock.

you haven’t even taken him half way yet when his tip nudges the back of your throat, your spit sliding down his shaft as you use your hands to pump whatever you can’t fit in your mouth; his own hands have flown to your hair now as he watches you with parted lips and half-lidded eyes, breathing heavy around moans and whispers of incoherent curses, grounding himself in the feeling of your strands between his fingers as he fights to control his hips from bucking forwards.

“s-shit-! oh my god-”

it’s only a couple of minutes later that you can tell he’s already close to bursting as you pull off of him for air with spit stringing from your lips, hands pumping steadily up and down from base to tip as you watch his face, feeling a mix of pride and affection at how fucked-out he already is as his eyes meet yours.

“you’re close, baby. do you wanna cum now or wait ‘til you’re inside me?”

you shouldn’t have said that.

the visual you just gave him shoots straight down to soobin’s cock as his abs tighten and his shaft twitches in your hands, a strangled moan that you think was supposed to be a curse flying from his lips as he cums, thick ropes of release covering your neck and chest and dripping down your tits, his mouth hung open as he watches and only cums harder — you get over your surprise quickly as you wrap your lips around him and suck, coaxing the rest out of him as he cries out with a tightening grip on your hair that makes you keen.

he cums more than any other guy you’ve been with and you swallow every remaining drop that you can, finally pulling off of him as he’s left trembling, making sure he’s watching as you look up at him and slowly swipe your fingers through the thick pearly liquid that drips down your skin, bringing it up to your lips to suck clean.

“fuck,” he whimpers, completely dazed, chest heaving, eyes dancing over your face and down to your cum-stained tits.

you lean in and give one last slow lick up the underside of his cock and over the tip; he hisses at the sensitivity, abs clenching, and when you place a gentle kiss to the head before moving back with a smile, soobin swears he’s seen heaven.

you take his hand and guide him to sit down, which his jelly-like legs are thankful for, urging him to lean back against the headboard as you soothe your thumb over the love bite on his hip and brush his hair out of his face with your free hand.

“how was it?” you ask playfully, tilting your head to the side, and now that he sits at this angle the glow from the desk illuminates his face instead of shining from behind him; your eyes trace the details of his hazy expression as he rests his head back against the wall and watches you.

“you’re fucking amazing…” he mumbles, still slightly catching his breath, face flushed and fucked out and beautiful.

“so are you,” you whisper teasingly as you lean in to capture his lips in a slow kiss, which he gratefully accepts, and you’re not sure how you’ve ever made it this far before tonight without the feeling of his lips on yours.

you push away the possibilities and consequences of tonight’s actions to the back of your mind.

right now, all that matters is him.

“s-sorry that i…” he’s suddenly shy as he looks away from you, and you already know what he’s trying to say when his voice trails off awkwardly, “i didn’t mean to.. you know…”

“why are you sorry for being sexy as hell?”

the surprise on his face makes you laugh, and his lips curl into a bashful smile when you continue, “i mean damn, soob, i knew you were hot before but seriously..”

you coyly poke at one of his dimples. “i’m flattered that you came that fast to the thought of fucking me.”

you can see the effect of your words in his eyes as he bites his lip.

“about that…. i still.. i mean, if you still want to, i….”

his voice grows quieter. “…i still want to.”

you can hear the vulnerability and hope in his tone that he probably thinks he’s better at hiding than he is.

“soobin…”

you take his hand in yours, and his eyes widen when you slowly guide it down between your legs, his sharp inhale a clear indication of the gushing wetness he feels there along with the warmth of your cunt.

you lean in closer, his hungry eyes flickering back up to yours; “what do you think, handsome?” you tilt your head again.

“think i want it too?”

his stare locks onto your every move when you bring his hand back up and wrap your lips around his wet fingers, swirling your tongue around them as you suck them clean and release them from your mouth with a pop.

“hm?”

his eyes shoot back up to yours.

he doesn’t trust his own voice as he swallows thickly with a nod and you find that he’s rock hard again when you straddle his lap, sighing in relief as you finally feel some friction from the way your wet folds glide slowly over his shaft.

you wrap an arm around his shoulders, taking his hand in your free one again to bring it up to your plush chest, his eyes honed in there immediately, and he lets out a quiet moan at the feeling of your soft tit in his grasp as he squeezes.

“you trust me?” you ask gently, and soobin looks up at you.

the glow from his desk makes his eyes shine.

his free arm circles around you and his face is so close to yours that you can feel the warmth of his breath fanning over your lips when he whispers,

“yes.”

and when you lift your hips with a smile to line him up at your entrance, promising “i’ll take care of you,” as you press your forehead to his and slowly sink down on him, watching the way his brows pinch together and eyes flutter shut, his lips parting in a breathy moan as he clutches you closer and whispers your name —

well, there’s no other way to explain the feeling that explodes in your chest like fireworks than to just call it what it is.

it must be love.

[thenameswinterfics]

SCIAMACHY

Fandom: House of the Dragon Pairing: Cregan Stark x DragonDreamer!Reader Settings: Season 2 and post season 2 Summary: As the second child of King Viserys Targaryen and Queen Aemma Arryn, your father arranged your marriage to the young Lord of Winterfell, Cregan Stark, in the guise of an arranged marriage that would strengthen the bond between your Houses. But you are haunted by visions of a bloody war shaking the Seven Kingdoms, and the seeds of your doubt are sown when your sister's claim to the throne is challenged. Word Count: 4,4 K Warnings: Angst, mention of death, mention of grief, mention of character(s) death(s), mention of child loss, mention of sibling loss, major spoilers from the book "Fire and Blood" (if you're only following the show please do not read this fic). A/N: I'm back! (sadly for you) This is my very first fic I've written for the HOTD fandom and the very first fic of Cregan. I'm nervous, maybe even more than when I posted my first Sihtric fic, probably because the fandom is vast. It came out different of what I've planned in my head and I lowkey hate the last part, but I hope you still could enjoy it! A special thanks to @foxyanon and @zaldritzosrose for helping me with clearing my outline and for the title, and for her and @legitalicat for the quick beta reading.

Dedicated to my beautiful Cregan wife @sylasthegrim

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE. I APOLOGISE IN ADVANCE FOR MY GRAMMAR AND VOCABULARY MISTAKES.

Header & dividers by @zaldritzosrose

READ IT ON AO3

Sciamachy: (n), a battle against imaginary enemies; fighting your shadows.

An unfamiliar chill ran down your spine as you walked through the dark corridors of the Red Keep, the place you were born but never called home. The soft crunching of the snow under your boots was the only sound you could hear as you juggled in the darkness, the faintest light in the form of rays filtering through the cracks in the walls and allowing you to see a little. 

The sight was vivid, far too vivid, and all you could do was rub your eyes vigorously, hoping that when your vision cleared you would find yourself surrounded by the crackling fire and warmth of your room in Winterfell, the place you were sent against your will but would be forced to call home once you became its new lady. 

But no matter how hard you tried to clear your vision: you would still recognise the long, oppressive corridors you had walked as a child, emptied of the countless soldiers of the Kingsguard that guarded it. Each step became an echo of the memories you thought you had buried with time, but which rose to the surface like a breath of fire from the dragon's jaws. 

You could still hear the voice of King Viserys, the father who despised you from the moment you took your first breath, guilty of stealing your twin brother's life and living in his name. A father that neglected you for not being born as a man.

You could still hear the voice of your sister Rhaenyra, sweet as honey and warm as a mother's embrace you had never known. You were the little sister she always wanted, the glimpse of freedom amidst her duties to the Crown and the relief from the pain of losing a childhood friend. And it mattered not that you were the quietest of her family, avoiding banquets and receptions in the throne room and sneaking out whenever you could, collecting the brightest bugs and muttering meaningless words, flinching when someone touched your hand: you were still her perfect little sister in her eyes. 

And her love was all you wanted right now. 

Your bittersweet thoughts were interrupted by a loud roar from outside, the sound so loud it made your head spin and your stomach churn. You quickened your pace, hoping to find a larger crack in the wall to see what was happening outside. And there you found a vision that made you freeze.

You saw two dragons, an older one and a younger one, chasing each other across a stormy sky, their dragon scales glowing under the lightning and thunder as their bodies pursued each other in a majestic yet macabre dance. It seemed an innocent game between them, but the claws and talons of the older dragon prevailed over the younger, and you watched helplessly as he fell to the ground like a comet from the sky, swallowed by the sea.

You walked on, your eyes never leaving the scene outside, wanting to help the little dragon disappear into the water. But the more you crossed the corridor, the heavier the air you breathed became, and roars of pain, of burning lands and clashing swords filled your ears like a cursed chant. 

You covered your ears and closed your eyes, stopping your journey towards the throne room. When you opened your eyes again, you saw a room far different from the one you were accustomed to: the vibrant and noisy ambience turned into a ghostly one, the faint rays of moonlight illuminating the Iron Throne. A bloody crown, Jaehaerys' crown, lay abandoned on the throne, rivulets of blood running down to your feet, two dragons lying restlessly behind it. Two children stood before it, their backs to each other, holding each other's hands; you could feel their tortured gaze as they watched the bloody chair, and your heart broke at the sight. 

As you approached, trying to touch the crown, soft footsteps made you turn and you heard a wolf howling in the distance.

And then you woke up. 

Duty is sacrifice. It eclipses all things, even blood. All men of honour must pay its price. 

These were the words that came out from Cregan Stark's mouth as he escorted Jacaerys to the Wall. They were a testament to how the men of the North were bound by his rigid code of values and honour, and how none of them had ever forgotten or wavered from an oath. 

And when the Stark were called upon to renew their allegiance to House Targaryen, nothing would make them waver.

His father Rickon had already done so when he was summoned to King's Landing and bent the knee to Rhaenyra Targaryen, and a few years later it was Cregan's turn to renew the oath by accepting King Viserys' offer of marriage to the new lord of Winterfell. The young wolf had recently been freed from the regency of his zealous uncle Bennard, and an arranged marriage to a Targaryen princess would strengthen the bond between the two houses since the times of Aegon the Conqueror and Tohrren Stark. 

But when he saw the melancholy in your lilac eyes, Cregan realised that politics was nothing more than a sweet lie masking a more sinister purpose: you were no longer welcome at the court of King Viserys, no matter how much your sister begged to keep you under her protection, or how much Alicent Hightower dared to show a glimmer of mercy. You would have been a young dragon raised by a pack of wolves, and as his future wife it would have been his responsibility to look after you.

And now he was called to be sworn to House Targaryen again, on the brink of a civil war that could involve the North in Southern affairs. 

“The realm will soon tear itself apart if men do not remember the oath sworn to King Viserys and to his rightful heir,” Jacaerys announced solemnly, walking through the narrow corridors of the Walls, Cregan at his side. The Lord of Winterfell was holding Ice over one shoulder, the sword as heavy as the title inherited from his father. 

“Starks do not forget their oaths, my prince,” Cregan retorted, occasionally bowing his head to some members of the Night’s Watch, “But you must know that my gaze is forever torn between North and South,” he added, a hint of heavy responsibility in his voice. The threats in winter were much greater than in summer, with the Night's Watch and the men of Winterfell stepping up their activities on the Wall, ready to turn back any outside threats. Furthermore, it was rare to see the intervention of the North in matters concerning the South, but Cregan could not ignore that oaths were broken. And traitors had to pay for it.

“War is coming to the whole realm, my lord,” it was the Prince of Dragonstone’s turn to retort back, “Whilst your men plan to raise guards against wildlings, the Hightowers plan to usurp the throne. My mother’s claim has been compromised, and little I believe your lady wife could turn her gaze away,”

The words that escaped Jace's mouth left Cregan in a state of astonishment, his brows furrowing and hardening his already stern face. He had never expected the prince to use his wife so cleverly, even though she was a trusted member of his house whom he had sadly never met in peaceful circumstances.

“The Queen has not forgotten the love she has for her sister, and King’s Landing will welcome her again once my mother succeeds in keeping the realm united,”

“My lady wife has her sister's fate very much at heart,” Cregan continued, his gaze softening a bit at the thought of you, “and you arrival put her in a state of worry, my prince,”

The two young men then stood on the Wall, looking out over the untamed land, now covered in white snow. A biting wind whipped around them as Cregan explained how such powerful creatures as the dragons refused to cross the spaces beyond the Wall, highlighting the dangers of the unknown that folded these lands, while he and Jacaerys negotiated the number of men willing to aid Queen Rhaenyra's cause. Cregan himself knew the importance of keeping an oath to a man's moral integrity, and while his duties were tied to the Wall and the threat of the wildlings, he could not ignore the dispute over the king's word. 

“My lord,” one of Cregan’s men arrived, forcing the two young men to interrupt their conversation, “Urgent news from Dragonstone,” 

The Wolf of Winterfell took the parchment in his hands, and from the brief glance he shared with one of his men, he knew the contents were far from frivolous. He let the paper slip from his hands to read the message, and a sense of astonishment struck him like the chill of the North: his lips curled into a grimace, his eyebrows furled slightly as his grey eyes scanned the words printed on the paper. He could have thought it was an unfortunate joke, but the seal of House Targaryen only confirmed what he had read: 

"Prince Lucerys Velaryon has met his death at Storm's End, slain by Prince Aemond Targaryen.”

Cregan lifted his gaze to rest on Jacaerys' brown eyes and watched as the young prince's face contorted in confusion, then grief as he glanced at the parchment in Cregan's hands, and hot tears watered his eyes, streaming down his sharp face until two small rivers crossed their path on his chin. The young lord watched helplessly as the Prince of Dragonstone staggered backwards, clutching his chest in a tight fist as if trying to hold it together; it was a sight familiar to Cregan, for he had also lost his younger brother and remembered the same sense of helplessness creeping through his veins. 

But as Jacaerys collapsed in grief, a new weight hit Cregan's chest, a sense of dread blossoming in the centre of his stomach as he steeled himself for what was to come. 

He would have to inform you and to bring the news of Lucery’s death. And it wouldn’t be easy.

The bright orange sun hid behind the imposing mountains of the North, its last rays illuminating the tops of the peaks and tinting the snow a soft pink. As the light faded, a few amber rays filtered through the windows of your chambers, illuminating them with a soft glow - the gentle warmth of the sun blending with the heat of the great fire in the centre of the room, accompanied by the soft crackle of the wood.

You sat quietly at the foot of your bed, embroidery hoop in hand, watching your son Rickon play with his wooden toys beside you. A few handmaids moved about your chambers, preparing the large table for the dinner you and Cregan would share that evening. Your lilac eyes rested on the small figure of your son, who returned them with a broad smile. But as you raised a hand and gently rubbed his swollen cheeks, you were seized by a sense of unease. 

It had been a long time since you and Cregan had been married, and from the first night you spent in Winterfell your mind had been haunted by dark omens hovering over your family name. Glimpses of what had happened in the past and what would happen in the future passed before your eyes like dancing shadows, sometimes appearing even when you were fully awake. You could still hear cries for help filling your ears, dragons fighting in the sky with claws and breath of fire, and sinister whispers plotting an overthrow of power, the image of your father's bloody crown on the throne still vivid in your mind. 

The people of Winterfell had always regarded you with suspicion, for you were far from the Targaryen princess they had always imagined. But Cregan had never dared to question your tastes, however strange they might sound, and whenever the duties of lordship allowed him a moment's respite, he would gladly accompany you to the far reaches of the North and catch whatever bugs you wanted. In winter, when the temperatures were too harsh and the bugs were nowhere to be found, he would wrap his great arms around your form and listen to your strange rhymes as he gazed into the fire. 

Your prophetic dreams ceased after you gave birth to Rickon, but they returned when a raven came from Dragonstone with grim news: the death of your father the King, the usurpation of your sister's claim by the Hightowers, and the loss of Rhaenyra's only daughter. Fear settled in your heart as you remembered the figure of the young dragon swallowed by the waves of the ocean, and you wondered if even innocent children would fall victim to this dangerous game of power. 

The doors of your chambers swung open and Cregan appeared. The handmaids greeted him with a nod of respect, and you gave him a small smile as you watched Rickon rise and reach his father, who scooped him up with his free hand and kissed his little forehead.

But it was when he looked at you that you realised something was wrong. His eyes, softened by the sight of you, held a pain that seemed to be fighting him. It was as if he were carrying a burden too heavy for him to bear, heavier even than his duties as Lord of Winterfell, and the sight surprised you: you had never seen Cregan so troubled by anything.

"Leave us alone," your husband's voice echoed in the room, once again wearing his mask of severity, "I need to have a few words with my wife in private,” 

The handmaids bowed their heads and quickly left the room, one of them holding Rickon in her arms. There was an unspoken tension in the air as Cregan cautiously approached you and sat in front of you. He had always been an attentive and protective husband, showing a side that differed from the stern image he gave his men.

“You seem quite troubled, husband,” you spoke softly, your voice faltering slightly. Cregan replied with a heavy sigh, covering your hands with his larger ones and rubbing them with his calloused thumbs.

“Dreadful news came from Dragonstone, my love,” Cregan said in a hoarse voice, choosing his words carefully, as if talking to a wounded puppy, “Your sister, the Queen, lost a child again,”

You felt the ground beneath your feet, surroundings had become as muffled as your husband's voice as he recited the contents of the parchment:

"Prince Lucerys Velaryon has met his death at Storm's End, slain by Prince Aemond Targaryen.”

Feeling like you were about to pass out, you rolled over onto your side and gripped the wooden footboard in a tight vice. You immediately covered your mouth and looked down at your feet as your mind slowly processed the news, but the shock was so strong that no tears came. Your mind raced back to the dream you'd had weeks before Jacaerys' arrival, seeing pieces of a puzzle you couldn't quite understand until now: Lucerys was the dragon that fell from the sky, and Aemond was the other one who sank his jaws into his flesh.

You felt Cregan's worried gaze on you as one of his hands moved to your arm, rubbing it gently in a soothing way. “It pains me to see you so devastated, my sweet wife,” he spoke quietly, breaking the wall of silence between you, “but you must know that House Stark will stand against-“

“I need a moment, please,” your trembling voice interrupted him as you found the strength to stand at your feet, your thick robes swooning with every step you took in the room. You paced back and forth, one hand rubbing the bridge of your nose while the other supported your lower back, grief and confusion mixing in your head as you felt like you were about to succumb to madness: for a moment you wondered if Rickon would fall victim to the Dance as well, but no bad omen was attached to him and that brought you a moment of peace.

Your restless walk ended as you approached the large window of your chambers and saw Vermax flying restlessly outside. It pained you to see such a magnificent creature as a dragon so distraught over the loss of his kin, and it pained you even more when a flash of his fate crossed your eyes as you saw the dragon dancing among hundreds of arrows.

“It is said that dragons can feel their masters’ emotions,” a rough voice came from behind, and you saw Cregan looking outside like you, “They feel their pain, their turmoil, and they share the same grief.” 

“He is preparing for his last flight,” you murmured quietly, turning your head slightly and locking your lilac gaze into his grey one. You felt Cregan’s hand resting on your waist, allowing him to pull you closer and join your foreheads together. 

"Winter is coming, my love, and I need my men here to defend the Wall," he spoke softly, closing his eyes for a moment as he felt the warmth of your skin against his, "but House Stark will pledge its support to Queen Rhaenyra by sending her thousands of Greybeards to fight in her name. Your sister's claim will be upheld and your nephew will succeed her," 

"Jacaerys will never be King of the Seven Kingdoms," you confessed defeatedly, looking down at your feet, "the only kingdom he will see is of sea and salt. He will never see his mother sitting on the Iron Throne. I have seen it,"

Your words brought a heavy silence to the room and you both withdrew into your thoughts. You saw how quickly Cregan and Jacaerys had bonded, how they spent their days hunting and drinking together while they negotiated the terms of war. Luke's death would not be an accident, and you hoped your words would reach your husband, that he would understand the destructive force dragons could be once they went into battle.

Instead, Cregan's only words were his arms wrapped around you, sealing your body in a protective embrace. He whispered words of comfort, kissed your temple and promised victory over the usurpers.

But deep in his heart, he knew it would not be easy.

Grief and anger were the emotions Cregan felt as he rolled the parchment in his hands, his eyes darting over the words written in pitch-black ink. He cursed himself for not believing the signs of your dreams, for thinking that fear had created them for you. But even this time you were right.

The Battle of the Gullet had been costly for the Blacks, and the death of Jacaerys Velaryon was a low blow the queen would not forgive her usurpers. It was Cregan again who had the task of bringing you the unfortunate news, and his eyes would forever be haunted by the sight of your grief: he saw you holding Rickon as the news of blood and cheese reached Winterfell's ears, and those same dull eyes came back to you as you leaned against the wall at your nephew's death.

Not even the news that King's Landing had fallen into the hands of Rhaenyra and Daemon could ease the paranoia you lived with, but it only served to fuel your dark prophecies. Few letters were exchanged between Cregan and Rhaenyra, with the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms constantly asking for her beloved sister and inviting her to return to court and serve if she wished. But Cregan always refused her invitation. 

For the truth was that you were safe in the great lands of the North, surrounded by nothing but the love of Cregan and Rickon, far from that viper's nest that was the Red Keep. It took time for you to adjust to the harsh cold of Winterfell and the coldness of its people, but your calm and gentle nature opened a breach in the heart of his hardened lord, and with it, the people began to love you. 

The night was cold, and the heat of the fire was not enough to protect them from the blizzard raging outside. Cregan could not sleep, tossing and turning, hoping that the Old Gods would grant him some much needed rest. It was only after tossing and turning on his side for the umpteenth time that he saw you awake too, your platinum curls falling gently to your shoulders and your lilac eyes gazing absently at the small bed where Rickon rested. 

The young wolf wrapped his naked arms around your waist and pulled you close, his chest pressed against your back, the layer of your nightgown the only thing separating your bodies. "Sleep seems to have left you too," he said in a harsh voice, his lips brushing against your neck. You closed your eyes and let out a shuddering breath. 

"I have no reason to be asleep, dear husband," you replied absently, the softness of your voice melting his heart. Cregan knew that your mind was far from him, and he feared that your prophetic dreams had imprisoned it again. He let out a long sigh before speaking again.

"A raven came from King's Landing in the morrow," he spoke quietly, keeping his voice low so as not to wake Rickon, "your sister will be pleased to welcome you to the capital and give you all the honours of a Targaryen princess,”

He felt a small chuckle escape your mouth and lowered his head, resting his newly bearded chin on your collarbone, "If it is your wish to reach her, I will order some of my men to arrange a safe journey south for you." Cregan went on, his voice faltering at the thought of leaving you alone while Rhaenyra dealt with her opponents. But you were his wife and the light of his eyes, and if you wished to regain your lost time with your sister, he would accept it without objection.

But the slight shake of your head surprised him, "It wouldn't change anything. Rhaenyra would be dead the moment I reached King's Landing, and the gods know what horrors await there.”

Cregan's brow furrowed, and for the first time he seriously considered the words of your prophetic dreams: if the Dragon Queen was indeed about to die, what would happen if he left his wife alone in the grasp of the Greens? A shiver ran down his spine, anger boiling in his chest at the thought of you being taken prisoner by Aegon the Usurper. 

"That will probably not happen," the Lord of Winterfell scoffed, tightening his grip as if he secretly feared you would disappear in his arms, "You have nothing to fear, my dear woman. Your sister is Queen now. Once the usurpers and the breakers of the oath have paid for what they have done, there will be a reign of peace and prosperity. 

"It will not be her," you murmured, rolling to the other side to face Cregan. You leaned your hand against his cheek as you looked at him with your melancholy eyes, "Rhaenyra is the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, but a crown of ashes will adorn her head and a cloak of fire will wrap her body.”

Cregan leaned into your touch, but he could not quite relax at the grim revelation you gave him: he wanted to find comfort in your presence, but your words were as hard as boulders, carrying a heavy weight he wanted to lift from your shoulders.

"I can hardly see it," he murmured, his voice tinged with doubt, "Rhaenyra is a strong woman, gathering as many noble men as she can for her cause. The kingdom will be stable under her leadership."

You shook your head slowly again, your eyes filled with sorrow, "But the Dragonfire is stronger than she is, and what she has built will crumble with her," you paused for a moment before continuing, "A throne of iron swords will give way to a wooden one, and only when the cripple breathes his last will a child step in, wearing Rhaenyra's crown like a burden.”

Cregan closed his eyes and tightened his grip, a mixture of emotions flickering across his face as he slowly digested what you had told him. He had learned over time that your dreams were not mere hallucinations of a daydreaming mind, but a prophecy destined to come true, no matter how hard you tried to alter the course of events. The deaths of Jacaerys and Lucerys were living proof. 

“I swear on my honour that I will keep raising my banners for the rightful queen, no matter how gruesome our fates will be,” Cregan retorted, lowering his head more until your foreheads met again, “What will be of us?”

"You are bound by your honour and will fight for Rhaenyra until your last breath, my love," you murmured, absently tracing circles on his cheek with your thumbs, "The wolf will cry in the dragon's nest, and his wolf will be heard in the darkest hour. And only when order is restored will the wolf return to his pack."

Cregan stood in silence, his chest rising slowly as he held his breath, the realisation dawned on him: the intense activity on the Wall and the organisation of the harvest had always prevented him and his men from making a proper march on King's Landing, hoping that the Greybeards he had sent would be enough to fight for Rhaenyra's cause. But your words have confirmed that his men will march on King's Landing, and he hopes to find a less devastated city than the one his wife has described.

“Cregan,” your gentle call awakened him from his thoughts, his head resting on your hands, “promise me you will come back to me and Rickon. Swear it,”

The young wolf stood silent for a moment, his eyes drinking in your beauty: it would be painful to leave you behind, but if your prophecy came true, he would be forced to honour his oath and fight for his queen. And so he took your head in his hands, closing the distance and sealing the promise with a long, bittersweet kiss, tasting of farewell but full of hope.

“I swear it.”

If you've come this far, thank you so much for reading my fic! Hope you enjoyed it! Please, leave a comment if you want to be added in the taglist or be removed.

Cregan Stark Taglist: @sylasthegrim @legitalicat @zaldritzosrose

[hiaennyddei]

is the King in Yellow phallic or yonic ? Discuss. [i am sent to the Dreamlands for 20 years]

Design notes under the cut !

John :

his coat has 2 layers. the outside is always the same shape, the inside is a mess of fabric that doesn't make much sense and whose shape changes depending on what he needs.

his outer cloak separates in 4 large ribbons that act more or less as legs. they're very strong but not very agile.

there's a darker ribbon going from his hood down his back that acts roughly like a tail. he uses it for balance (like a cat), mobility (like a snake), or attack (like a scorpion) depending on what he needs

thin ribbons float and wrap around his arms, and some more can come from his inner cloak. they act as precision limbs.

his hands look human-ish, but very bony and with short claws. the skin feels like porcelain.

he usually has 4 hands out, but can remove or add some as needed.

the brooch on his cloak has the same sigil than the one on his book

the teeth in his mouth are ivory-white

some areas of him are always in complete darkness (the inside of his hood, the deep folds of his cloak). you can only ever see the outline of his face.

the cloak is part of his body as much as the arms, possibly more so

the halo/crown melts more the more he strays from godhood. it is always tilted towards Arthur. (it built back up to an extent during his stint in the dark worlds in s3, then started melting again)

the crown's spikes always point straight up, regardless of how tilted the crown is

King in Yellow :

Some common points with John : hooded cloak with sharp tails, yellow, ribbons/tendrils, vertical mouth, crown, jewelry, bony arms, some areas are comletely in darkness, obscured face, glowing eye(s)

Some differences : John's yellow is warmer ; John has fancy embroideries, King is much more uniform ; John's cloak has natural folds, King's looks more geometrical ; John's eye is bright all the way in, King's is dark at the center like a black hole ; John's hands are human-like, King's has two opposable thumbs like owl talons

Generally they have similar building blocks (cloak, yellow theme, ribbons/tendrils...) but John is warmer, has more human traits, and is generally more organic/more natural-looking.

The King's crown has two points broken off (one for John, one for Yellow)

If you stand in front of the king it always looks like light is coming from behind him, so the side you see is always is semi-darkness and the cast shadow is always on you. If you could circle around him, the shadow would follow you like a compass

The hands are more "puppeted" additions than actual body parts

Yellow :

Basically the King in Yellow forced into a situation of weakness and fragile humanity

Shade of yellow is closer to the King's than John's

Coat's cut has the sharpness and geometry of the King's, but it's imperfect and has visible folds

Crown is broken as representation of his weakness, but unlike John's it's forcefully and neatly broken instead of melted

Him having hands is representative of being forced into a human, but they still take inhuman shapes with two opposable thumbs

Makes a point to keep up appearances, hence the jewelry and coat patterns, but doesn't have the King's glory

Has two eyes because he has Arthur's

Has the king's monstruous tendrils, but a lot more disorganized and more fabric-y than shadow. They spill out of the area where his coat's symetry is broken.